five merry-go-round poems

five merry-go-round poems


I err in the dark void
of the outer space
colder than my empty heart
the coals of your fading touch
long extinguished
wintergreen breath
tinted with rum and coca cola
comes in choked spurts
too early in the morning
time stands still, even though
the grandfather clock's ticking
has been too loud for sound sleeping
it still chimes the quarter hour
and nightly I count the minutes passing
losing my way in a life without you
like a blind man imagines an astronaut
losing the sun and moon
in the merry-go-round of Saturn's rings


to count the passing minutes
[2007.15.11...a]


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in the merry-go-round of Saturn's rings
and saturday's promises of leisure
I toy with losing the sun and moon
in a delirium of brandy-induced dreams
until I remember the unwelcome reality -
I'll play in the merry-go-round of traffic jams
for worker's strikes hostage public transportation
and friends expect me ten miles further
at ten in the morning (give or take sore feet)
to sing and dance far from the sunny skies
in a chilly Scots Kirk where moonlight is feeble


saturday mornings
[2007.16.11...a]


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our wishes are no longer eternal
time is disappearing
its ticking is untouchable
yet a few wrinkles are certain
as our aging voices croak for peace

in their twinkling
stars blink out daily
in their charades between
the sun and moon, both lost
in the merry-go-round of Saturn's rings
invisible light which eons later
at last faltering
guides only the dreamers
toward the north star messiah

there are no modern saviors
to illuminate the world from
its perpetual darkness
war and peace are timeless twins
neither vanquish, both are ethereal


to late for dreams
[2007.16.11...b]


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the rings of Saturn
are pure imagination to the naked eye
their nebulous merry-go-round
is probably lethal to all but
the sun and moon
and other various milky ways

in my dreams, colorful horses
and little girls in pinafore dresses
are prisoners spinning slowly
on the ghostly carousel I create
in the utter silence of outer space
I have exorcised them
in a temporary truce

my doctor tells me
that dreams of innocent little girls
are really about a much detested woman
whose name he still does not know
I remind him of the lonely moments
of freedom, at the state fair
on a revolving zebra, lost
and forgotten for an entire afternoon

that too was lethal to a trusting child


unnamed woman
[2007.16.11...c]


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I have no fear
of losing the sun and moon
in the merry-go-round of Saturn's rings
my dreams predict planetary explosions
cataclysmic meteor showers
of apocalyptic finality
no, I have no fear

I gaze no longer at shooting stars
their wishes are for simpletons
though the promise contained in the Milky Way
keeps the world's population frugally believing
in destiny and its jokes — instead
I write haiku about the planets
         drowning on the sands of time
         in a stark thirst
         only fate's tears can quench

when I found them —
the golden and silver orbs —
I was bathed in childlike innocence
and fairground carousels
a favored occupation on a saturday afternoon
but afterwards, on sundays
we read the good book
and frightened of godly disapproval
believed still the astronomer's tales
that Saturn's diaphanous rings
were like cotton candy, albeit food for the gods

no, I did not fear
losing the sun and the moon
which contained a false sense of calm
before the birth of a volcano's smoke
and the sick acid tears ruining the land
a smoldering hellfire just under the surface
as a child I still believed in merry-go-rounds
and never learned to fear the innocent magic


fears in the good book
[2007.16.11...d]
Revised 12/2/2009